Only Flesh deal in glam, punk, horror, industrial, sleaze, metal, testosterone-charged rock, distributing shock after lurid shock faster than an aging porn star gives anal. On the first few listens this is as infectious as an STD at a bring-your-own-razor orgy. And though it has plenty of catchy choruses, riff after greasy riff, and a host of singalong sex anthems, this is a pretty impressive imitation of early Marilyn Manson at his wicked worst. Like an unwashed sex toy, this is utterly rotten. Purposely made of everything that the PMRC campaigned against, this is as much shock as substance. Instantly intoxicating, when the album ends, as with all inebriating substances, the effects abate and the hangover-incurred promise of "never again" soon emerges, only to be dismissed as we head back for more debauchery and decadence. From the Gutter to the Grave will fuck you, fuck off, and leave you wondering where the fuck you can get more. Until the drugs wear off, that is…

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